


seven days

by imagymnasia



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Genocide Route Spoilers, Sad Sans, deaths are mostly just hinted at, nothing graphic, they're vague but still spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5100695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagymnasia/pseuds/imagymnasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This has been the longest week of your life. But the end is in sight...</p>
            </blockquote>





	seven days

**Author's Note:**

> Took some liberties with this one; the "days" aren't really days so much as analogous to time periods and events? I really just liked the comparison to the Biblical story of Creation. Sorry about all the sads. 
> 
> I am not subtle.

You aren’t there for the first day, but you don’t have to be to know how this ends. As soon as the child walks through that door, the great stone gate grinding shut behind them, you know where this is going. Without seeing, you know that somewhere within the ruins lies a pile of white ash, pure and lonely as mountain snow. Now there is only silence and the distant smell of cinnamon in the air left to remember her.

On the second day, your worst nightmares come true. It is only the beginning, you know, but this blow hurts you the most. It’s not as hard to restrain yourself as it once was; you try to convince yourself this is inevitable, to find solace in distance and indifference, yet you’re not sure which is worse: failing to stop this a thousand times or no longer having the heart to try. You try not to think about it and let the tears fall freely.

The third day only proves how pointless this is. To see someone so great fall to someone so small, over and over and over again… Your sense of helplessness feeds upon it, and your apathy grows like a weed, twisting tighter around whatever is left of your belief in goodness. Those fragments are small now, so small you can barely feel it anymore. You know what’s coming, and watch with the eyes of a stranger.

The fourth day is the easiest. You’ve no personal stake in this, and you’ve long since realized there’s no point in trying to stop it. You observe the carnage at a distance, hood pulled up to ward off the chill in your bones. It doesn’t help. 

By the fifth day, you know that this path is etched in stone. From here, there’s no turning back; there are no more chances to turn away. Following the child forces you to step over the shredded metal on the floor. You avoid the twisted limbs and try not to look at into the unseeing eyes. You can still feel them, staring at you, as you move to the next room.

Now it’s your turn. The sixth day starts softly, beautiful like any other, and only you remember what it was like before the life went out of the world. You wait for the child to approach. This time, you don’t bother saying anything at all, instead jumping into the fray with only half your heart. You’ve no care for this anymore. This dance is rote, a sick ritual you want nothing to do with. You don’t want to fight. You don’t want to live. It’s hard to recall a time when you ever did.

Time passes faster than you know, and when the seventh day dawns you are exhausted beyond measure. But you made it through, and there’s a small comfort in that. You haven’t given up completely. You could still be saved; if not in this timeline, then perhaps the next. So you allow yourself a smile and step forward to claim your hard-earned prize.

On this day, you rest.


End file.
